Creative Corner

@LagMonster - she really does! I was pretty happy when I figured that out :D

@Scyras - that's a GREAT compliment, thank you! Going for tension and heart attacks, so I'm glad to hear it's working so far!

@Solaristigres - exciting is exactly what I want to hear. Don't want to give anything away, but I've got big plans for the next few chapters!

@WillowWhisper - that's what I'm here for! ;) (thanks again for Nightshade!)

@pensandink - thanks so much! I love Chime too, in all her moral grayness, if that wasn't obvious!

[center][b]Chapter 11: City Slicker[/b] @LagMonster @Khoshekh @Twelvewishes @Stormsinger @starslang @Scyras @excessnight @pensandink @Solaristigres @Nihilo @WillowWhisper [/center] Clementine felt [i]awful.[/i] She should have realized. Probably Shrike should have too, but her friend had been so unfocused and withdrawn lately that, really, it had been up to Clementine. There had been plenty of little warnings: the hesitation in their companion’s voice as she accepted, the cocky but unsure way she’d carried herself, as if she didn’t know what she was doing but was trying very hard to hide it. And finally, there was the moment in which Clementine had hesitated, thinking that the other dragon could handle it. She couldn’t. Clementine had waited a second too long, and now she could do nothing [i]but[/i] wait. [center][img]http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JUtDBTct_0Q/UQlPKIEt-KI/AAAAAAAALEQ/_G9dBj28G44/s1600/snowflake_divider.gif[/img] [b]Earlier[/b][/center] [i]“Hunting?”[/i] The spiral sounded somewhere between incredulous and amused. [i]“Really.”[/i] “We’re all out of food,” Shrike snapped; Clementine had noticed her normally kind friend doing this more and more lately. “How else do you propose we get some?” “I don’t know…buy it? Steal it? In the Cloudsong there are, you know, [i]shops[/i] and such for that kind of thing…” “You see any shops around here?” Shrike waved one of her hands around at the bleak, cliffy landscape. Chime made a show of looking carefully all around, before turning back to Shrike with a puzzled expression on her face. “Hmm,” she said in mock confusion. “Now that you mention it…” Shrike flashed Clementine an exasperated glance, looking like she was trying very carefully to not throw a punch at the spiral. Surely she knew that Chime didn’t mean any harm. “You don’t have to hunt with us if you’ve never done it before,” Clementine offered. “Shrike and I make a pretty good team by ourselves.” “Three makes a better hunting party, though,” the mirror cut in, fans waving in thought. “We’ll be able to take down more prey if you come along. You [i]have[/i] been hunting before, right?” Chime paused for just a fraction of a second before loftily replying. “Of course I’ve been hunting. I’ve been in my share of scraps, anyway. If you two [i]incompetents[/i] are in need of my expertise, I suppose I will have to come along.” Shrike nodded and turned away like it was settled and the three of them began picking their way up the cliffs, using their wings – Clementine’s wings, in Shrike’s case – when the loose ice and scree became too precarious to walk on. It was a beautiful day, harsh and crisp, but although the sun had risen several hours ago it still struggled to pull free of the horizon. Shrike had warned her this would happen; in the winter the light hours grew shorter and shorter until the day was swallowed by twilight, and then eventually, darkness. Clementine shivered at the thought; she loved the sun, loved the way it glittered on the ice as it rose and how it warmed her fur, gold on gold. Plants needed the sun to grow, and she loved those too. How did dragons live for months on end without light? “Ok.” Shrike’s voice broke her out of her daydreaming. They had reached the top of the cliffs, and Clementine heard herself take a sharp intake of breath. Before them was a vast, flat stretch of snow – over [i]land,[/i] she had to remind herself, not ice. The solid ground still felt very odd to walk on after the constant flow and buckle of the floes. Right now, the tundra ([i]hee, tundra[/i]) was covered in snow, but Shrike had told her that during the summer plants actually grew right in the ground, if you could believe that. And somewhere – probably past the jagged upheavals of black rock (mountains?) in the distance – there were many of a certain kind of plant called [i]trees[/i]. She wasn’t sure why, but she was very keen on seeing those at some point. “Ok,” Shrike repeated, and this time both Clementine and Chime turned to face her. “Um. I know neither of you have ever hunted on the tundra before. Well, I guess I don’t know that much about you, Chime, but…anyway. I just wanted to say a few things. Clementine, the animals out here are a little different. They’re more used to being hunted, so they’re going to be more dangerous, ok?” Clementine nodded seriously, but wasn’t particularly troubled. With Shrike on their side, surely they could take care of anything that came their way. “Just stick together and keep an eye out, all right?” The two of them nodded and Chime, for once, was quiet as they set off through the frozen landscape. Shrike went into her tracking mode – she sniffed the air, perked her ears, and studied the landscape closely as they went, occasionally shaking her head irritably at some small frustration. The spiral observed her with rapt attention, apparently fascinated. They followed a promising set of animal signs into a small ravine, and were met by an angry pinkish owl almost immediately. The three of them made short work of it; Shrike seemed impressed with Chime, who dealt strong blows even as she coiled her body out of the way to avoid hits. The ravine seemed to teem with wildlife, and they managed to flush out a few other targets without incident. Clementine’s fighting style seemed a little different now, as the only caster between two fighters, but she had the feeling that with some practice they could work very well together. That was before the stranglers. They took them by surprise, whipping out of a crevice in the ice and rock with mouths already open in threat. Shrike took a bite from the green one before they could react, but after she slashed at it she was able to shake the creature off. Clementine dropped into her trance state, preparing to cast an attack, as Shrike backed hastily towards her. Chime, however, was not far enough back, which seemed troubling even through the meditative haze. [i]Chime,[/i] she wanted to call out as the magic flared bright in her mind. [i]Chime, move…[/i] But she didn’t. It happened fast; Chime couldn’t dodge smoothly enough and the reddish strangler struck hard, sending the already off-balance dragon slamming into the icy outcrop behind her. She was too still, and then the creature was constricting, wrapping itself tighter around the spiral’s slender throat, and Clementine was frozen. It had all happened in a heartbeat and she hadn’t had time to think. Shrike reacted before she did, thankfully. She felt the little dragon rush past her, saw her slashing at the strangler with her claws, knew that she needed to help. And yet she still remained rooted to the spot; there was something about Chime’s total lack of movement that was just [i]wrong.[/i] The spiral was always moving in some elegant way, even in her sleep. This was wrong. This was [i]bad.[/i] A flash of movement out of the corner of the eye finally shattered the spell; the green strangler was lunging at Shrike, trying for another bite. Clementine, somehow able to move again, let loose an angry blast of magic at it. It wasn’t quite enough to kill it, but it did drive the creature back into the crevice. Shrike had made short work of its companion and was hovering next to the prone spiral, frills fluttering in agitation. “Shrike?” Clementine called, having found her voice in the rush of adrenaline. “Is she…” “I don’t…I don’t know,” the smaller dragon said faintly, putting a shaking hand by the spiral’s muzzle. “I’m not a healer…oh!” The hand jerked back as if she’d been burned. “She’s breathing! Just unconscious, I think.” Clearly as eager to prove Shrike wrong as ever, the spiral stirred slightly and blinked her eyes open, squinting against the light. She looked lost and unfocused, which was chilling in a dragon normally so composed. Shrike tapped her on the nose, which seemed a little callous. “Chime? Can you hear me?” The spiral blinked once, in a slow, uncoordinated movement. “Vallin? What happened? I thought you said…I thought you said just one last job…” Shrike looked up to meet Clementine’s eyes, and Clementine could see her own fear reflected there. “I think she hit her head pretty hard when she fell…” the small dragon murmured. “Chime. It’s me. It’s Shrike. Do you know where you are?” “I…what happened?” Chime repeated drowsily, not appearing any more lucid. “Don’t leave,” she whispered, a note of panic creeping into her voice. “Please don’t leave!” It was a plaintive sound, almost a sob, and so out of character that it made Clementine feel sick with worry. “Chime,” she heard Shrike say gently. “I trust you about as far as I can carry you, but I promise I won’t leave you here.” There was a brief silence, and when the spiral spoke again, her voice was a little clearer. “Never actually…been hunting before.” Shrike flashed Clementine a relieved smile. “Yeah. That was pretty clear. Listen, I really want you to stay awake, ok?” Chime gave a slight nod, and then winced at the motion. The mirror turned back to Clementine. “Clem, do you think it would be possible for you to carry her back to the den?” The spiral was substantially longer and heavier than Shrike, but Clementine still found herself nodding resolutely. She wasn’t going to freeze up again. “I’ll try my best.” [center][img]http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JUtDBTct_0Q/UQlPKIEt-KI/AAAAAAAALEQ/_G9dBj28G44/s1600/snowflake_divider.gif[/img] [b]Now[/b][/center] “I think she’s asleep.” Shrike’s voice broke the silence. Clementine padded over to her side. Unconscious Chime looked very different; she seemed so peaceful and vulnerable. Younger. Like she was still just a kid. “Will she be ok?” “I’m not sure…like I said, not a healer. I’ve seen dragons take some pretty hard hits and recover, though. We just have to wait and see how she is when she wakes up.” Her friend paused, and her voice was quieter when she spoke again, like she was talking to herself. “She [i]is[/i] going to wake up. She has to. She’s my only chance at finding them.” “Shrike…” It didn’t seem like an appropriate time to ask, not with everything that had happened, but the words were already leaving her mouth. The question had been nagging at her for days now and she needed to know. “I know you’re looking for your family. The thing is, they’re all mirrors like you, right? If you don’t mind me asking…I’m not a mirror. What happens to me when you find them again?” She stared at her feet – the question suddenly felt very selfish. “Ah,” she heard her friend murmur, sounding like she’d had the wind knocked out of her. “I’m sorry, Clem. I haven’t exactly thought that far ahead. There are always some other species that tag along with the pack – you could probably do that, if you wanted – or if you’d rather be with other tundras there are a ton of herds in the area.” “Oh. Ok.” Clementine felt a vague tightness in her chest, and suddenly she was finding the view of her feet very interesting as her eyes went unexpectedly wet. [i]Tag along.[/i] She wasn’t sure what answer she’d expected, but it wasn’t quite that. It made sense, she supposed; Shrike had already spent a lot of time taking care of her. She’d just thought that maybe… “I think she’s waking up,” the mirror said suddenly, and Clementine rushed to the spiral’s side, other problems temporarily forgotten. “Chime?” she said uncertainly. “Can you hear me?” A pale green eye opened a slit, and Clementine heard a weak voice, barely more than a whisper. “Come a little closer.” Heart in her mouth, the tundra leaned in. “What? What do you need?” The spiral’s coils shifted, and then, to Clementine’s relief, she smiled. A hand stirred, raised in the air, clutching something – Clementine’s bracelet, which she could have sworn was on her wrist a minute ago. “Yeah,” Shrike commented with a [i]hrrr[/i] of laughter, snatching the pilfered bracelet away from the thief. “I think you’re going to be fine.” [center][img] http://i1383.photobucket.com/albums/ah298/fr_cerastes/Screen%20Shot%202015-01-28%20at%205.16.00%20PM_zps8efnasqk.png[/img] (TOO CLOSE)[/center]

@LagMonster - Haha, don't be! Clementine is fairly adorable, if I do say so myself ^^

And yeah, that was a bit of a heart-stopping moment. Darn those critical hits.

She’s probably going to be pretty out of it for a while. Chime was pretty sure someone was saying that, or maybe had recently said it. She wanted to lift her head and protest, no really, I’m fine, but right now the big wooden monster was shouting a little too loudly and she had to squeeze her eyes shut against the noise. The monster wouldn’t go away, and now it seemed cross with her. Hey. Stay still. She told it to please stop yelling before slipping back into unconsciousness, too tired and dizzy to question the absurdity of the situation.

When she awoke again – disconcerting, because she hadn’t realized she’d fallen asleep – the world was a little less blurry around the edges. This was good, because without awareness of her surroundings she had nothing, but bad, because her head really hurt. She heard a pathetic groaning sound, and it took her a second to realize it was coming from her.

“Chime! You’re awake again!” The voice was much too loud; irritated, Chime cracked an eye open. Something gold and fuzzy was looming anxiously above her – the tundra. And she was still talking. “How’re you feeling?”

Chime felt it necessary to groan again before replying. “Ce qui s'est passé?” No. That wasn’t quite right. She tried again. “What happened?”

“You don’t remember.”

The spiral tried to think of something clever to say in response, but ended up shaking her head mutely, a movement she instantly regretted.

“Well…we went hunting, and you weren’t very good at it.” Chime felt, rather than saw, the shiver that passed through Clementine’s body. “There were some stranglers, and one got ahold of you.” Brought down by a leafy snake. Wonderful. “Shrike says she thinks you have a concussion, but since you’re awake and talking you should be fine in a day or two.”

How terribly reassuring. “And I’m sure Shrike is a font of medical expertise.”

“Oh, she’s very smart,” Clementine replied earnestly; Chime would have rolled her eyes if she didn’t think that might send the world spinning again. In any place more civilized than the Icefield, there would be nice things like healers and medicine – she let herself fantasize about being in an infirmary for a moment, on a nice clean nest instead of on a musty pile of dried grass in this dimly lit cave. Preferably drugged to the gills with a nice pain-relief spell. Perhaps this was for the best, though; she tended to avoid infirmaries even when they were accessible. They always wanted to know pesky things like your name and medical history.

“Shrike said you should drink some water,” she heard before a vessel of some kind was raised to her lips. She wanted to argue on principle, but she really was quite thirsty, so she found herself meekly accepting the drink. And she was rather tired, too, and this dried grass was not uncomfortable…

It’s going very well. The mark seems to be completely buying their story, and their way into the museum is taking shape now, tantalizingly close. This will be the biggest heist they’ve pulled in months. Chime gives a tinkling laugh at some joke their target makes, leaning on her partner’s arm, playing the part of the rich investor’s mate they’d decided on. She takes a perfunctory little sip of her drink – and a few minutes later, when her throat seems to be closing up, she realizes that it was a mistake. She can’t get enough air, and so she excuses herself with a smile, trying to not let her mask slip. Vallin glances at her with thinly veiled alarm; he’s never been quite the con artist she is. In the hall, she collapses, struggling for breath against whatever toxin is constricting her airway. Bile rises in her throat as she tries not to panic, but the world is darkening at the edges and everything is tilting –

Chime awoke with a start before promptly rolling over and throwing up. The poison had only been a dream, but unfortunately the nausea was all too real.

“Lovely.” The voice – it took Chime a second to recognize it as Shrike’s – was gentle. “How are you feeling?”

“Oh, just merveilleux. Like I could rob a thousand banks.”

“No need to be mean,” the fae buzzed. “Can I get you anything?”

Cue the lance of guilt through Chime’s gut. Please don’t be nice to me. Both of you are far too nice to me. I’m not a dragon you should be nice to. “…No. Thank you.”

There was silence for a while; Shrike seemed content to wait with her until Chime fell asleep. The spiral half-opened her eyes; the world was bright, fractured, with the fae appearing as an indistinct blob, growing all the more blurred as sleep began to overtake her once again. “Shrike?” she asked drowsily. “Why does Clementine call you a mirror?” She knew it was just the concussion-induced haze making her chatty, but she couldn’t stop herself.

Shrike flinched. “I am a mirror.” Her tone was so stubborn that Chime didn’t want to point out the obvious.

“Ok,” she heard the little dragon amend, “not exactly, I guess. I had…I had a bit of a run-in with a breed-change scroll. I got exalted.” She paused. “Which is what we should do with you, really. Two days to recover, one to keep up, yeah?”

OH. That made so much sense; all of Shrike’s anomalies began clicking into place. Even… “Not an accident,” Chime heard herself muse out loud, and then winced. Probably not something she should have said out loud. Head injuries really put her off her game.

“You read my note?” The small dragon’s normally flat voice now held an edge of incredulity. “Chime. That was private. That was mine.”

“Knowledge cannot be stolen, they say, only shared.”

“Chime.”

The spiral sighed through her nose. She should definitely stop talking. “Can I ask…why are you doing this? And why haven’t you told us? If it’s so dangerous for you, why are you still trying to get back?”

She saw the dragon’s fans ripple in distress. “You’re right. I should have told the two of you – it’s not fair of me to put you in danger like that. And I just…I just don’t know what else to do.” She sounded so sad and broken that Chime she would have offered a comforting pat, if her arms weren’t so heavy. “We can talk more when you’re feeling better. Try and get some more sleep, ok?” The voice was distant, as if it were reaching Chime’s ears from a very long way away.

“I’m sorry,” she heard herself murmur. She was. She was sorry.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”

If only. It was the last thought she had before unconsciousness slipped its wings around her. If only you knew how wrong you are.